Better Places Than This
by Anawiel Dewdrop
Summary: spoilers for the manga ending  How did Chrono find Rosette again? Did he have help? Where was he anyway? This is what I think happened at the end of his disapearance. Rating due to one slurred sweary word.


A/N: HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

'tis me Anawiel. I know this may come as a bit of a shock but no, I didn't drop off the face of the earth and drift off into space. I don't know where I was, deviantart, youtube, Gaia, facebook and uni mostly, all I know is that I haven't written a story in (*checks*) 5 YEARS? That can't be right. Anyway, suddenly I find myself missing it so I finished this little piece I started before my unscheduled hiatus.

This story will be manga based and may possibly contain some spoilers for volume 8, even in this introduction. While I like the cute moments between Chrono and Rosette in the anime and Chrono and Remington's voices are fabulous, (especially Chrono's "big boy" voice ^_^) after the stuff on the train and the little nod to the manga with the carnival the whole story line gets FUBARed and I don't like it at all. So I tend to ignore it for the far superior manga. If you don't want to know anything at all about the ending of the manga and keep the whole thing a secret, turn back now, no one will judge you. If you like to live dangerously, read on dear friends read on.

Just because I can; he's been through the stuff with Aion but came out unscathed okay? I would also like to take this opportunity for any OOCness. I love the manga dearly but haven't read it in a while so may have forgotten some character nuances.

Right. That's enough from me this introduction spans nearly a whole page of text in Word so, I hope you like the story. Its inspiration was the song _**"(I've Been Thrown Out Of) Better Places Than This"**_by Tracy Byrd. I'm pretty sure we're not allowed to use actual lyrics and copywriten stuff in our stories, but a quick google search will yeld the lyrics and you can enjoy the story a little more, I hope ^_^

Disclaimer: If I owned it would I bother writing fan fiction? No, I would just shove it into the main storyline. Daisuke Moriyama owns all; I am merely taking his toys out of the box and amusing myself with them for a while.

Better Places Than This

The speak-easy was fairly innocuous, tucked away in a little side street that, for the most part, remained unexplored by the general masses of the city it inhabited. It wasn't ostentatious; it wasn't in possession of an overly flashy sign that attributed to the hole in the O-Zone layer. Its reputation depended more on word of mouth than anything else, what with it being an illegal establishment and all. It was the kind of place that had its regulars while still being welcoming to anyone who may stumble upon it unexpectedly, provided they had nothing to do with any kind of law enforcement. It was a place that was hard to find, and easy to get lost in.

On a stool, pulled right up to the bar to assist the occupant with their waning ability to balance, one foot on the brass railing running the along the bottom of the bar, elbows on the slightly wet wooden top, head hung low, hands pushing an empty glass back and forth between themselves, sat a man. Now in a bar this wasn't an uncommon sight, in fact there were three more just like him sat in that very establishment, no, what marked him out was his unusual appearance.

His slightly unruly hair fell loose to his mid back and if that wasn't unusual enough for a man, it was also a shade of purple that looked almost black in the pathetic illumination thrown off from the overhead lights. From within the mop of hair poked two ears that, if they were pressed to answer, the drunkards around him would swear were pointed like some kind of elf. When not downcast, his eyes were the deep warm colour of the wine the landlord would sometimes serve to his clientele. When he occasionally spoke to said barman, he exposed a set of canines that looked decidedly like they belonged to the species from which their name was derived.

It was hard to determine exactly what he was wearing as what wasn't covered by the tattered poncho he had draped over himself, the poor lighting helped to conceal, but the one thing that it was possible for all to see was the red headband he wore in a futile attempt to keep the hair out of his eyes. He looked for all the world like some sort of down on his luck cowboy, all he needed was the hat and the horse (which some of his fellow drinkers bet were probably waiting for him outside the bar).

Six hours previously this strange man had literally stumbled into the building, proceeded to weave his way over to the furthest end of the bar, pull up the closest empty stool, begun ordering and had been sitting there ever since. Occasionally he would mutter to himself about nuns, priests, an Aion and the general unfairness of life when he wasn't ordering drinks or playing with empty glasses, bottles and beer mats.

Despite the welcoming attitude the place was known for, this man instilled a feeling of unease in everyone present, even though all he had done thus far was damage his liver and litter a little. Once or twice he had begun to tell his life story to any soul brave enough to get close to him, but as soon as he started rambling about demons and religion his listener would find something over the newcomer's shoulder very interesting and immediately leave to investigate it, leaving the man alone with his beer and his thoughts. That was until the alcohol finally took effect.

"You know" the stranger's slurred words carried around the bar like the smoke that hung in the air as he stood and began a drunken solo dance around the floor, addressing whomever his wondering eye happened to catch. "I've done lot'sa stupid stuff in ma life. I helped a rebbbellion, I stood by ma brova afta he kill our mum, then the basrd stabbed me in th back, killed th woman I lov'd and lef me for dead…twce…"

"Okay sir, I think you've had enough" the barman tried to pacify the outsider, but the violet locked man was having none of it as he continued his drunken performance.

"…I been chucked outta Nandamonunununium, an Edan…"

"Sir, I really think you've had enough now, perhaps you should sit back down" The landlord tried again to appease the man and get him to return to his seat as it was becoming apparent he was unsettling the other patrons of the normally peaceful establishment.

"…but dujno worst thing I did? The worst fing I eva done was leave her there…"

By now the landlord had become frustrated with being ignored by the foreigner and was preparing to leave his usual position behind the bar to "gently" coax the man to his seat, or the sidewalk, whichever.

"Sir, I'm afraid if you don't sit back down I'm going to have to ask you to leave"

"…I jus left her there and told her to wait…"

"…Sir…"

"…I knu she doesn' have much time an I jus left her…I jus…I jus left" as if the weight of those words was too much for him to bear, the scarlet eyed man all but collapsed to the floor and dropped his head into his hands continuing to mumble those same three words over and over, occasionally disguising a sob as a hiccup.

But alcohol is a funny thing. Just as a fellow client was about to make his way over to the stranger's side to offer him some sort of comfort, the wannabe cowboy unexpectedly leapt up and continued with his solo act. The landlord suddenly regretted his previous wish for the outsider's attention, as he became the sole focus for the indigo haired man's next tirade.

"Wh'd I leave 'er eh? Sh's an angel. An angel sent don frm heaven she is. Sent by M'ry you know. Now SHE was an an'el. She wa' speial and she lef me too. She always smelled gud you know. Jus like Rosy…"

"Sir. I'm sorry for the misfortune you've obviously suffered but…"

"No, you don know wha srry is. You hve no 'dea what sorry is. Sorry is wha ma lif is, srry is makin same mistakes over an over, seeing hapn over and ober and not beng able to do anfing about it. Sry is gretting for all terninity you coun't stop the nvitble. Sory is wachin the woman you love wif all yur hert die in your arm, twice. Don tell me yorr sorry, you dnnn know what srryy is, you…ha no dea."

"Sir, if you don't calm down I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Sir? SIR?"

It was at this point that the interloper realised that mere words couldn't possibly convey the depths of his feelings and the only way to accurately express what he was feeling, was to destroy something. His first casualty of the night was the glass that had previously contained his last drink; it found itself hurled through the air at the landlord's head.

The intended target had the presence of mind to leap out of the path of the projectile and heard it smash on the wall behind him as he watched the man in the red bandana attempt to secure another weapon for himself. It was at this point the alcohol in the man's system took the opportunity to make its presence known in the form of an almost complete loss of motor control, causing the severely inebriated man to crumple to the floor in an undignified heap.

Several patrons, who until this point had refrained from joining in for fear of being targeted themselves, now took the opportunity to leap on top of the man and keep him restrained while yet more tried to take hold of his arms and legs and forcefully eject him from the establishment.

The door into this bedlam opened with a bang, startling all those inside into stopping whatever it was they had been previously doing. For the second time that day a stranger stepped into the room. He was tall, dressed in long dark blue robes with shoulder length blonde hair. His face was crisscrossed with unusual scars, yet still appeared youthful, and his eyes were a sparkling cerulean. As he walked, his steps were punctuated by the regular tap-tap-tap of the cane he used to assist him.

The newcomer was almost immediately identified by the man at the bottom of the heap in the middle of the floor. With a strength that seemed inhuman and completely at odds with what was expected from a man who had ingested as much alcohol as he had in the past few hours, the newcomer in the tattered poncho threw off the men attempting to hold him down and made his way over to the man in blue, lifting a drink from the bar on his way.

"Remmy, com'ere a minute, com're I wan you to meet umm…" with one arm around the shoulders of his blonde companion the almost-cowboy swung his other hand around the bar attempting to find a face to which he could place a name and instigate an introduction. The blonde man merely smiled apoplectically at the patrons and turned to lead his companion out the door.

"Chrono come with me, I believe you've kept a certain young lady waiting long enough"

It took several moments for the words to penetrate the inebriated cowboy, indicated by a look of puzzlement and incredulity on his face, followed a moment later by wonder and hope.

"Sh's still 'live?"

"Indeed she is, but I can't say for how much longer"

This new information stunned the first man in to complete inaction. His movements stilled and his head dropped, long violet hair obscuring his face. The glass in his limp hand slipped to the floor and shattered in the complete silence of the room. If he hadn't been looking for it, the scarred man might never have seen the tears that hit the ground along with the glass. The sudden noise seemed to shock the taller man back to his senses. His movements became a blur as he embraced the man in blue, stumbling and stuttering his way through his gratitude.

After a fashion, and leaving one arm around the shoulders of his companion, the apparent gunslinger disentangled himself and spun around to address his fellow patrons.

"Well, look lke I gotsss sssomewere to be. Thnk for drink and hospitabitlity but I gots to gos and see ma anghel."

He completed his spin and now found himself facing the exit. He raised his free hand over his shoulder in a gesture of farewell to the people he was leaving behind and leant forward to open the door when an angry voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Sir, SIR, who's going to pay for all this damage?"

The blonde man was the one to answer "Charge it to the Order of Magdalene good sir, there should be sufficient funds to cover the cost of restoring your establishment."

"Fine fine, now kindly leave and take your friend with you, I think he's had quite enough and should sleep it off"

The blonde man smiled at the landlord, the warmth reaching right up to his blue eyes "I'll do that. Come on now Chrono" he said, addressing the man he had come to collect "I think we've outstayed our welcome"

"Yeah yea yea, I'm leaving…c'mon Remmy I know where im na wannaned. Yeah yea yea, I know where door's at. Y'know barkep, ya might wanna clean th place up a lil bit…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the wanderer was physically dragged through the door and into the waiting car outside.

A/N: I'm really sorry for the crappy drunk speech. As an English student it physically hurt me to be so grammatically incorrect, and I hate drunks so I don't spend time with them of my own free will therefore I doubt my attempt at drunken speech convinced anybody, but I tried. Okay timeline wise, lets say it's 1932 so I'll let you decide where Chrono was being taken (assuming you, like myself, have read the whole manga and are ignoring the anime.) I had intended for this to be a happy fun piece since the song it's based on is so much fun, but then it decided to get depressing and serious. Isn't it funny how stories seem to write themselves sometimes? Even more ironic? All the time I was studying English; no inclination to write. The same week I give up English for Philosophy so I can get the points I need to graduate; I start writing again. Frickin' Though Like.

Hope you liked and I would greatly appreciate and welcome any constructive criticism you good people would care to give. With any luck this won't be the last time you hear from me. Tatty Bye Bye.


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